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Letter #37

June 8, 2012

Once I was your dog.

Your words, or rather

the sound of your words

were landscapes I  raced,

the food I ate  the water I drank  tasted of you-

I licked the spot where you laid

sniffed the things you touched.

When , as  light follows  darkness, you came, stayed   a while, then left, but always returned:

the waiting was excruciating,   your arrival was close to panic-

and I can’t for the life of me remember your name.

I’ve had  many   masters since

but I recall  what you

called   me.








(some recent drawings)

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